DUNCAN AND VICTORY. IYO GAIN the willing trump of fame ball: Strike shudd'ring France, and harrow'd Spain, October the eleventh, at nine, Sing, Britons, sing, &c. Fate warr'd on that momentous day- Sing, Britons, sing, &c. A SALT EEL FOR MYNHEER. PO H Y, Jack, my fine fellow, here's glorious newsAS Lord, I could have told 'em as much; Is That the devil himself durst not stand in their shoes If Duncan fell in with the Dutch ! What heart in the kingdom can now feel dismay ? Nine sail of the line !—not amiss ; How the Mounseers will jabber at this : We'll tip 'em all round a touch; quench, Belabour the Dutch, Now the French while in harbour so snug and so sly, 'Bout their courage they make a fine rout; If they'd have the whole world not believe it a lie, Then, damme, why don't they come out ? Because, though they brag that so boldly they feel, They are all of them trembling for fear, Lest from Bridport they get such another salt eel, As brave Duncan prepared for Mynheer. No, while, &c. Let French, Spanish, and Dutch lay together their heads, And of beating the English brag; That they'll sail up the Thames, take us all in our beds, And hoist on the Tower their flag: “Oui, oui,” cries Mounseer; “Si, Signor," says the Don; Mynheer smokes his pipe and cries “ Yaw;" But when Jervis, or Duncan, or Bridport come on, They are damnably sick in the craw. No, while, &c. Your true honest maxim I've heard them commend, Is the nation you live in to sing : Where your property, children, your wife, and your friend, Are the care of their father the King; The man then, so bless'd, who disseminates strife, Deserves, while he sinks in disgrace, No, while, &c. TACK AND TACK. Ta DIEU, my gallant sailor! obey thy duty's call, Though false the sea, there's truth ashore; Till nature is found changing, thou’rt sure of constant Poll: Ah! much I fear that never Jack kiss'd her, hitch'd his trowsers, and hied him to begone, Weigh’d anchor, and lost sight of shore: Next day a brisk south-wester a heavy gale brought on: For much I fear that never Shall I, sweet Poll, behold you more.” Poll heard that to the bottom was sunk her honest tar, And for a while lamented sore; tarry for? Jack's gone, and never, never Jack safe and sound returning, sought out his faithful Poll: that's all; For never, sailor, never “If, as you say, that nature, like winds, can shift and veer, About-ship for a kinder shore; I heard the trick you play'd me, and so, d’ye see, my dear, I've spliced myself, so never TIGHT LADS OF THE OCEAN. measure, main; Where toil is enjoyment, where trouble’s all pleasure, And where men lose their lives, a sure fortune to gain; Where you fear no diseases but sickness and scurvy; Where the water stinks sweetly by way of a zest; Where you walk on your legs, when you're not topsy turvy; And where, though you sleep soundly, you're never at rest! Then push round the can-oh! you have not a notion Of sailors, their grog, and their sweethearts and wives ! Ah! give me, my soul, the tight lads of the ocean, Who, though they're so wretched, lead such happy lives. Then you're always of billows and winds in the middle, That so dash, and so whistle, and bodder your ears, And play a duet with the tar's song and fiddle, So sweetly that sounds, and that nobody hears : : Then to see the tight lads, how they laugh at a stranger Who fears billows can drown, and nine-pounders can kill! For you're safe, sure enough, were you not in such danger, And might loll at your ease, if you could but sit still, Then push round the can, &c., |